


You're Out

by goodmorningvietnam666



Series: Batter Up! [2]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton is a badass, Clint still broods a lot, Deadpool and Hawkeye Team up, Delicate Plot, Doppelganger, Established Relationship, F/M, Humour, Lots of Secrets, M/M, Sidekicks, Violence, he gets teamed up with so many people, he just wants to figure who's in charge, is it too much to ask?, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2715014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmorningvietnam666/pseuds/goodmorningvietnam666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes to killing people without guns or superpowers: Hawkeye is your man. </p><p>Lately, he's been running missions for his boss - Nick Fury - for the past two years while living at Tony Stark's mansion in Malibu, which, at first is pure <em>joy</em> (sarcasm intended). Then, he discovers feelings for the playboy billionaire, and they're reciprocated - which is great. </p><p>When he gets back home after the two year contract, his apartment is blown up with him inside....</p><p>So, if he's inside a room without weapons or armor, then who's in his costume running around with the Avengers?</p><p>He was going to KILL the guy in charge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, explaining time!
> 
> I hated the first three versions of the sequel, especially the one I posted, so I took the crappy idea that was going nowhere and replaced with this! Which is hopefully much less crappy! Yay!
> 
> It's still a work in progress, so if you have anything to say about it: say it because I need to know it's good or I'll just worry to the point of deleting it again! (noooo pressure). 
> 
> Note: this is going to be much shorter than the first story - which should be read first - as there is less of Clint's character to explore and the sequel is a wrap up for anything left untied in Three Strikes. 
> 
> Okay: boring stuff over - here's the first chapter!
> 
> Happy Reading!

Everything hurt. 

Clint Barton – Hawkeye, arguably the best archer in the world – opened his eyes slowly, finding only darkness and deafening silence to greet him. 

What had happened?

Oh, right: the bomb. 

He groaned and blinked blearily at the darkness, running a hand through his knotted hair, fingers catching in the matted locks, tugging gently to untangle them before giving up and groaning again. 

He pressed an open palm to the ground and pushed, holding back a scream when pain shot up his arm, protesting to the heavy movement. He stopped trying to get up immediately after that, and instead used his hands to press at his body, finding sore muscles and broken bones along his torso that each protested to the rough touch. 

A moment of clarity hit him: and it all came together…

_He shot up off the couch, and had a hold of his bow in seconds, but he didn’t make it to the door, and was instead propelled backward by the explosion and out of his six storey building window, crashing onto the pavement._

It was a miracle he’d survived. 

But where was he?

He thought carefully about this, trying to recall anything that may have helped his situation, pulling up one leg and flinching at the noises that responded: a grating sound of metal against concrete, and then frowned at how heavy his feet seemed… He instantly felt his ankles: chained to the floor – he was nowhere safe. He was also weapon less, and armour less: actually he couldn’t even remember what he had been wearing when…

A door on the far left swung open, revealing artificial light from bright naked bulbs which temporarily blinded him and he threw up an arm to shield his vision from the yellowish light. A figure walked in slowly. Clint looked around the room, noting a television on a table, the chains at his ankles, blood seemingly everywhere around him, and nothing else. 

He tried to at least sit up, shuffling until he had propped himself up onto his elbows and whining from the pain that sparked in his ribs, pressing down onto his lungs heavily and making breathing difficult. He decided facing the other man wasn’t worth his pain and lowered himself down carefully, staring hard at the ceiling above him.

“We were worried you had died Hawkeye” the man said softly, leaning against the only piece of furniture and folding his arms. 

He knew that voice, had heard it scream ‘tell us the codes!’ for hours upon hours of ruthless torture… “Silvers” he uttered; his voice gravelly and weak, causing him to grimace slightly “I thought Stark dealt with you in Greenland”

Silvers simply shook his head “I’m afraid I got out before he managed to get in: much to your dismay I imagine”

Clint just hummed in response, flexing his wrists and grimacing at the pain that responded in the left “You aren’t with HYDRA, are you?” he asked: after sitting up briefly he had noticed the absence of a HYDRA insignia on the other man’s clothes “You work for someone else”

“Yes” the villain admitted “Someone much richer, and with much bigger plans”

Clint scoffed “Care to share?” The only people he knew with an insanely huge amount of money were Stark, Professor X and… well, that was it really.

Silvers chuckled “Only a little” at that, the television came to life. 

He had to sit up now, listening wasn’t proving as helpful as he’d hoped, and slowly his vision began to focus: a New York channel, the camera focused on the Avengers as they were interviewed on the latest catastrophe, Cap, Nat, Tony, Bruce, Thor and….

And…

_Himself._


	2. Clarity

“What. Is. That?!” Clint asked slowly, pointedly, trying to keep the heat from his voice… he had to be hallucinating. He surged up and forward without his body’s permission, ignoring the intense pain as he strained against the bonds on his ankles. Finding some satisfaction in the brief fear that passed through the other man’s gaze

Silvers chuckled “Don’t recognise yourself?” he replied, before turning around and exiting through the still open door, adding “Enjoy the show” before slamming it closed. 

Clint shook, both with rage and shock, and turned back to the screen, watching the imposter in _his_ armour, with _his_ bow, _his_ arrows… and _his_ potential partner… that brought a slight smile to his lips. The chains continued to groan and shake in protest, as did his body, and eventually he fell to his knees, feeling the strain fall from his body immediately and sighing: trying to collect himself. 

He was injured: bad, his team had been infiltrated by a doppelganger: worse, he had no weapons and no escape route: even worse. 

He watched the interview roll, watched how ‘Hawkeye’ was exactly like him: right down to the accent, watched how easily he seemed to fit in and continued to watch whatever else came on afterwards. 

He felt a little numb, almost placated, and he felt out of options. He was tired, sore, injured, weapon less and worse: captured. So what did he do?

He escaped: that’s what.

Using the dim light of the screen, he took note of how the chains were attached to the floor, and remembered something he’d once learned from Tony: if the bolts were huge, they were more likely to come loose with enough strain: like joints. 

So, he set to work, checking each individual bolt meticulously, shaking, twisting and pulling at the large objects with great attention for the slightest amount of give. On one, his fingers managed to work their way beneath it, and it became a tiny bit looser; but that was all Clint really needed, and despite the protests of his back, he lay down and pulled in the opposite direction of where the bolt was screwed with the captured leg, hearing a gentle groan come from the metal as the cuff dug into his ankle and his body screamed in protest. 

As he pulled, he thought to put his mind off of the pain and onto more important things: who was Silvers working for? Monetary advantage didn’t exactly nail down any one super villain or regular businessman. If the operator held money that would mean he also held resources and hiding would prove difficult… he’d need a bow and arrows: pronto. 

The bracket finally snapped, clattering along the floor loudly and Clint froze for a long moment, listening for a change outside of his cell. Hearing nothing threatening, he took a look at his ankle, which was now covered in slowly oozing blood and throbbing painfully: he wouldn’t do that again. He took a good look at the cuff now, noting the clasp and hinges coated in his blood and then the padlock on the opening end of it: damn, he’d need a key. 

Picking up the broken bracket with shaky hands, Clint wedged one of its edges between the ground and the bolted bracket, gripping his impromptu tool and standing before lifting, grunting slightly with the effort and praying that the second bracket would come away quietly. When the bracket broke free it sent him toppling backwards and landed him on his back, which was instantly shot full of pain in one hundred areas at once. He let a whine escape him them, and rolled to his stomach and stood again despite the pain. 

Picking up both broken brackets with bloodied hands, Clint took a look at the handle of the door, which was a mainstream round knob, and then checked the hinges, which luckily swung outward from the room. He almost cheered, but instead backed up to the opposite wall, pressed his feet to the ground, took a bracing breath and sprinted at the door, ramming the reinforced wood with his shoulder and hearing it splinter. He backed up slowly, panting and rolling his shoulder: that had hurt – he should have checked what the door was made of first. Thankfully, it seemed that no one was guarding him at the time, and so he aimed a hard punch at the weakened wood and broke through, scraping his knuckles and causing them to add to the mix of blood seeping from his hand, which slipped on the outside door knob until it finally clicked open softly. 

Clint breathed a laugh at the simplicity of his escape, but then remembered the brackets held in his hand and sighed before taking one in each hand and curling his fists around them tightly: show time.

He snuck through the hall he had found himself in and checked each doorway before finding what looked like a security office; after knocking out the man in the room, he used the computer to find out where he was: San Francisco. After cursing his back luck and checking his billions of wounds, Clint left the room in search of the keys to the cuffs at his ankles, the chains barely jangling as he walked stealthily through the hideaway. San Francisco… he’d be walking for more than a month to get back to New York: damn.

He found the keys on a security guard near the door and punched the large man over the head, using the weight of the bracket clasped in it to strengthen the punch… after undoing the clasps he left the building, immediately stepping into a busy street. He would have gone inside to find and interrogate Silvers, but he wasn’t stupid, in his current condition he wouldn’t get much further than the door if he went back now. 

He was free: good, he was months away from New York: bad and he had no weapons: worse. 

But… he could probably fix the worst of his problems. 

///

“I got glocks, machine guns, submachine guns, rocket launchers, machetes, explosives, swords, a Gatling gun a – oh hey a torpedo launcher! Who knew? Oh! I have a crossbow! – but uh, no bows; or arrows” Deadpool answered, poking his head out of the massive gun cache in one of San Francisco’s warehouses “Aren’t you supposed to be in New York right now?”

“That wasn’t me – it was a doppelganger” Clint answered from where he was leaning against a wall, bandaged and newly clothed “And I can’t fire crossbows – I hate them”

“Wait – doppelganger is that really a word?!” Deadpool replied, sitting down on one of the huge crates nearby “You did not know that!” another brief pause “Okay so I ignored you get over it!” A longer pause “Who doesn’t like crossbows?!”

Deadpool and he had a… rocky relationship: sometimes they got along, and others… well, they blew things up and fought tooth and nail. An advantage of knowing the merc with a mouth was that the guy owned weapons caches bigger than SHIELD’s and the military’s combined: and he was more than willing to share it with Clint: they were buddies after all.

“Me” Clint responded evenly, jerking a thumb at himself “Look, if you don’t have a bow and set of arrows do you at least have transport?”

Deadpool snorted “I’m not your boyfriend Hawkeye – I’m broke, remember?”

Clint rolled his eyes out of habit – Deadpool had been betting on himself and Tony hooking up for years with Wolverine, and know the other regenerating X-Man was down a hundred bucks: which Deadpool was of course more than happy about.

“Yeah I remember” he paused for a moment before pushing off the wall and turning around “Thanks anyway”

He only got onto a main street before Deadpool was walking beside him “We could team up, you know, considering you don’t have weapons and are obviously killing this guy”

Clint shook his head “We don’t work that well together Wade – remember the last time we did?”

The last time he had worked with the regenerating degenerate they had ‘accidentally’ blown up two steel mills, a chemical plant, and had let the target get away: Fury had never offered again. 

“Good times” Deadpool responded with a laugh “Come on – it’ll be fuuun” the mercenary pressed in a sing-song voice. 

“No” Clint said firmly “Look, I sort of have this solo act thing going for me right now – so I don’t want a partner… I have 948 hours of walking ahead of me so I’m going to get started now okay?” he reasoned, turning around and walking at a brisk pace

“Hawkeye are we pals?” Deadpool asked suddenly, Hawkeye paused and spun around, he could have sworn he could make out a sincere gaze behind the mercenary’s mask. 

“Of course” Clint responded evenly “Why?”

“I dunno… I just… people I thought were friends aren’t really friends so… yeah” the mercenary responded, rubbing the back of his neck “Anyway – kick their asses, yeah?”

Clint smirked, brushing off the comment and knowing that if Wade had thought it that important: he would have continued, and nodded “In your honour man”

As he walked away, he couldn’t help but laugh at the soft ‘yes’ from behind him.

///

Clint got fairly far that day, and once on the ferry from San Francisco a man his age had asked if he’d wanted a lift anywhere, Clint had declined, saying he was headed to New York, but the other man had insisted, saying he could get Clint through to Las Vegas and that every mile helped, right? Clint took it eventually, and they had driven to Las Vegas in comfortable silence. 

Clint had offered a way of thanking the man, but they had waved him away and declined, wishing him safety before driving off. He couldn’t afford to stay anywhere of course, but he had experience of homelessness, as a street kid and a poor man, and found somewhere safe for the night, only sleeping until dawn before getting up and walking again. 

Soon enough, a couple picked him up on the highway and drove him to Colorado Springs, and again he was declined giving any form of thanks: he must have looked poor. He had had to visit a doctor, because the injuries he had sustained were looking worse and worse, and because he hadn’t had any money, he had wasted three days doing the man favours until his debt was cleared and then he left the town with less of a limp and duffle of clothes from the doctor’s wife. 

Sometimes, people really surprised him with their kindness, especially people he met on his travels, and Clint always found himself shocked at their generosity. 

When he was little, he had clung to his older brother, grasping to the idea that no one was nice, no one could be trusted and no one cared, it was an old habit now to underestimate the people he met, expect the worst but receive the best: it was something that always managed to confuse the people he knew, who all agreed he should ‘trust more’.

Yeah… right. 

He walked along the dusty highway slowly, cars zipping by beside him as the day ploughed on, and the injures he had been suffering from were starting to protest, the muscles affected seizing or the wounds on his hands and ankle stretching painfully now and again. HE didn’t protest however: he still had days to go and stopping to nurse his wounds wouldn’t get him anywhere. 

His imposter, he mused, would know everything about him by now, had probably received the same greetings and experienced the same camaraderie that he always did when the Avengers reunited: he hoped that Thor would break his ribs by accident. He knew he was being bitter, but being moved out of the team, even if they weren’t aware of it, hurt, because they were all he had left in his life. The Avengers were the reason he kept doing what he did, the reason he only killed when he absolutely had to. The Avengers made him better. 

He was thrown suddenly and violently to the ground by a different force, and when his back hit the ground and seared in pain he groaned and tried to roll over, halted by a hand pressed to one shoulder and the feeling of three prongs against his neck. 

“The hell?” he chocked, tilting his head to try and avoid the sharp objects at his neck and then coughing after inhaling the dust that had resulted from their impact. 

“Barton?” Wolverine growled from above him, before adding “Thought you were someone else” as a form of explanation. After a moment of pause, the X-man pushed off of him and crouched next to him as he sat up “Thought you were sitting pretty with the Avengers”

“It’s not me” Clint answered, pressing a hand to his neck carefully “I’ve been captured in San Francisco for who knows how long”

“Five days, maybe more: that’s when the Avengers came back together” Wolverine answered, standing and offering a hand to him, pulling Clint up with ease “You going back?” 

“Yeah” he answered, dusting himself off “I don’t know who’s pretending to be me: but they could be dangerous”

Wolverine hummed in agreement and rested his hands on his hips, looking around slowly “Do you want a ride?” 

Clint laughed before shrugging “Sure, why not? Is there a catch or something?” he managed before laughing again: now Wolverine was showing generosity to him – what next?

“Ah, yeah, actually”

Clint stopped laughing and looked over at the Canadian “You’re kidding… right?”


	3. Altruism

“Okay, now I know you’re kidding” Clint said, looking at himself in the mirror. 

He was wearing a likening to his own costume, the only difference being a smoky grey where the blue should have been, bow and quiver over his chest. He met his own gaze and shook his head, chuckling softly before looking at the X-Men in the background of the reflection: Wolverine, Nightcrawler, Gambit and Psylocke. 

“I’m still not kidding” Wolverine murmured, arms folded across his chest in a stubborn way, ever present scowl only deepening slightly. 

“We need a marksman: you’re the best” Nightcrawler reasoned from where he was lying atop the railings of the underground hideout: in Kansas. “And you’re currently unemployed, given the fact that an imposter is with your team, Wolverine’s mistake will obviously amount to something if we do utilise your skills”

“Right” Clint answered softly “What do you need me to do?” 

“Two villains are about to try and overrun Kansas, planning from there to spread throughout the country, collecting villains as they go” Gambit replied softly, touching Clint’s arm to get his attention “Their plan is to set off a signal to alert the other mutants involved so that they start their own individual takeovers until its infested the country… it’s supposed to be devastating” 

“Who’s in charge?” Clint asked, noting in the back of his mind that some people gave good information, unlike SHIELD. 

“Pyro and Quicksilver” Psylocke said, folding her arms in a mimicry of Wolverine “They’ve never worked together so we don’t know if what they’re planning will work or not”

Clint nodded “You want me to distract them? Or do want me to stop the signal?” 

“What do you think you could do faster?” Gambit asked watching Hawkeye closely with glowing eyes, clearly assessing him.

“That depends on what you all think you could do faster” Clint answered, running a hand along the string of his new bow “I think I could provide cover for Nightcrawler, considering he could get in and out unnoticed… both yourself and Wolverine are the most experienced in hand to hand combat, and even though Quicksilver is.. well… quick”

“How astute of you” Wolverine growled with a smirk, a shake in his shoulders demonstrating a quiet chuckle.

“Big words fit big mouths Howlett” Clint quipped easily, a little shocked at how much he had just sounded like Tony “Anyway, even though Quicksilver has speed, I’ve seen Wolverine take down much scarier alone, as for Gambit and Psylocke, they have projectiles and could fight Pyro while avoiding third degree burns.”

“Just how long have you been hanging around Stark for?” Wolverine responded after a long minute of silence. 

“Two years” Clint answered a little proudly. 

“You think like him” the X-Man replied with a little smile – equal to a grin from Wolverine “Let’s give it a shot”

///

They found the duo at a national park in Kansas, the open area being good for limited civilian casualties, and they could hardly miss the eight foot tall tower that the two were setting up. Maybe the only thing he had ever liked about mutants were that apart from Magneto, they didn’t have goons or ‘target practice’ as Tony would call them, no, they did everything themselves, for themselves.

_‘We like to think the same ourselves’_

“The hell?” he hissed at Psylocke who was smiling behind him “That’s a little invasive don’t you think?”

“It’s how we communicate Barton: deal” Wolverine growled softly, unsheathing his claws with a soft ‘snickt’ sound and nodding to Gambit, how already had five layered cards glowing in his right hand. 

Clint just shook his head and aimed, firing an explosive arrow in the direction of the two villains, before fading into the background, now glad for the slightly dull colours of his costume, which he now noticed, vaguely matched the colour scheme chosen by the small group of X-Men.

_‘I’m at the tower’_ this was Nightcrawler, inside his head just as Psylocke had been _‘The technology seems simple, I should have it disabled within ten minutes’_

Clint huffed a laugh of surprise and tried to communicate with the others, concentrating on his current thoughts and putting them through _‘Ten minutes?! Maybe I should work with you lot more often’_

_‘Don’t the Avengers finish missions quickly? From what I’ve seen they do quite well in high pressure situations'_ Gambit interjected, and Clint glanced at the man from where he was diving to avoid a jet of flames in his direction. 

_‘Once we get back into it sure but on our first reunion mission_ – he paused to shoot a putty arrow at a fire ball aimed at Nightcrawler and then another aimed at himself - _everything goes a lot slower’_

_‘Signal intercepted, moving to help Wolverine’_ Nightcrawler again, teleporting in seconds to Wolverine’s side to aid in the fight after updating his situation

Clint drew back an arrow equipped with a net and watched Quicksilver with keen eyes, tracking the villains erratic movement, noting the way in which the two X-Men fighting him attacked at regular intervals, and finally aimed the arrow at one specific spot, exhaling and firing, the net expanding mid-air and tangling Quicksilver as he darted past, legs flying out from under him and body falling to the ground in a speedy roll.

_‘Quicksilver is down’_ he thought simply, watching as Wolverine and Nightcrawler moved on after a split second of indecision. 

Pyro was next, the other mutant gaining ground on the X-Men fighting him by creating an effective fire wall and laughing in a triumphant way, aiming a long jet of flame causing Clint to roll to avoid being burned and ruining the advantageous angle he had had on the villain. 

Clint growled in frustration, remaining on his knees and drawing another arrow, changing his mind and drawing three at once instead and drawing once more, firing and watching as all three hit Pyro’s left side in an almost straight line from hip to thigh, causing the villain to cry out and become distracted, resulting in his capture. 

Clint joined the team of X-Men, noting how much his muscles were aching as he replaced the bow from where it had been before he’d used it, and looked between the two villains they’d caught, smirking slightly at the knowledge that he’d managed to capture both, grinning when Gambit firmly patted him on the back in a form of congratulations. 

As the team worked on figuring out a way to put the two villains in custody, Clint faded away and moved to the signal emitter, keen eyes catching something the X-Men hadn’t.

“This technology is Stark’s” he called, causing his impromptu team to turn in his direction, and he continued “Well, it’s based off of it, the only real difference is the firewall used to protect the launch codes and sequence: it’s not sophisticated enough” and, silently, he added ‘or paranoid enough’. 

“There’s more to this then” Wolverine concluded, looking around at the team slowly, and then settling his gaze on Clint, brows raised in question.

Clint smirked, eyes creasing at the edges as he did so “I never leave a job unfinished: let’s get to work”

///

Surprisingly, the team went back to the X-Mansion in Salem, and Clint did at one stage feel the urge to say ‘forget it’ and request to be dropped off in Brooklyn, but repressed it and decided that if something or someone was messing with Tony’s technology, he needed to make sure that that person or thing couldn’t gain any advantage over Iron Man’s armour. He suspected that his doppelganger was somehow involved, but didn’t bring it up with the X-Men because he feared they’d think he had a vendetta and wanted a reason to launch a full blown attack on “Hawkeye”. 

Instead, he worked on other theories: other business men, competitors, terrorists, even his fellow heroes, all to gain any lead that he could. It was taking a long time, but the signal emitter was being analysed and the other mutants in on Pyro and Quicksilver’s scheme were being dealt with by other X-Men, which meant there was less work to distract him thanks to the large size of the team. When Clint had learnt this he’d made a wry comment to Gambit about having a big team and the mutant had chuckled and shook his head at the archer, making a joke in return about the Avengers. 

He had developed a strange relationship with the X-Men, and while at first they had been weary around him, they had warmed to his presence and now knew him by name, greeting him with smiles and even coaxing him out of the building for a friendly game of football, baseball, or whatever sport they had in mind. Slowly he was growing used to the team of mutants, finding a sort of peace around them, a sense that they had everything under control and that they would keep no secrets. 

He admitted that he liked it a lot better than the secrecy and security levels that were woven in with SHIELD’s strict policies; preventing so many things and allowing so few, sometimes to the point that Clint felt suffocated beneath all of their red tape and ‘do not cross’ lines. That was partly one of the reasons he had liked staying with Tony so much, sure there were secrets, but the secrets were meant to be just that, secrets – until of course they got to know one another and the secrets didn’t need to be kept anymore.

After a week, marking almost two that his doppelganger had been in his position, he finally broke and had stared down Tony’s name in his phone (a new one generously given to him by the X-Men), thumb hovering over the call button as he weighed up the pros and cons and thought about what he would say that would make sense in any way, and how he would explain everything. Tony was clever, Clint knew this and respected the genius for it, but he didn’t know how his… how Tony would take to the idea of the him in the Avengers not being him… even saying it to himself it sounded absurd.

He sighed and hit call without a second thought, listening to the ring and half wishing that Tony wouldn’t pick up, the other half more than excited to hear from the genius for the first time in two weeks. 

_“You’ve reached Tony Stark”_ it was so generic Clint had at first thought he’d reached Tony’s message bank, but when the genius added a soft “Hello?” he knew then that the older man had actually picked up and this was the part where he spoke back. 

It dawned on him then that he had no idea what he would say, and he chose to remain silent as the sounds of Tony changing areas of his tower to get better reception in case his caller couldn’t hear him filled his ears; it was heart achingly endearing, listening to the genius ramble softly to himself, and at how patient he was with his unknown caller, it hurt not talking to him, but: ‘Hey it’s me; Hawkeye is an imposter, I’m working with the X-Men and by the way I miss you, how’s your day going?’ didn’t quite seem to fit, and he ended up hanging up and turning the phone off to avoid a reply call, growling softly in frustration, and chiding himself on the stupid idea. 

“Tried to tell him?” it was Wolverine, leaning in the doorway with his arms folded and gaze softened only slightly in what looked to Clint like concern. 

He only nodded, deciding it better not to go into details with one of the most stoic men he knew, and simply said “Couldn’t figure out what sounded the most convincing”

The mutant shrugged nonchalantly “You tried” he said simply before pushing off the doorframe and flexing the fingers on his right hand in a beckoning way to Clint “We’ve got an idea of who may be behind this”

Clint stood and followed, letting the new phone rest on top of his bed and pulling the cowl of his armour over his head, settling it over his face gently, his gloved hands smoothing over the foreign material in an almost trancelike state. 

“What’s this armour made of anyway… is it Kevlar?” he asked quietly, moving closer to Wolverine to allow younger students to dart past, laughing in their game of chase loudly and gleefully. 

The image brought him back to a moment of his childhood, his dad hadn’t come home on time, and their mother had taken them to the park, where he and his older brother had played tag for hours, until the sun was low in the sky and they could barely walk… after that Barney had taught him how to skip rocks in the nearby duck pond, sending the birds scattering which each stone, Clint hadn’t gotten the hang of it, but had enjoyed watching his brother, who at the time had known everything under the sun in Clint’s young eyes, talk softly to him as he threw flat rocks across the lake in a relaxed way. It was the most relaxed they had ever been, no screaming, no fighting or paranoia; just himself and Barney… that day was one he cherished, because his big brother had smiled for the first time in weeks. 

He was pulled out of his reverie when the mutant beside him answered his question, and admittedly he jumped. 

“Woven fibres, I’m not sure – that’s a question for Stark” Wolverine replied, unsheathing his claws and examining them for a long moment before sheathing them again “Anyway, we think it’s Black Box, a former student of the Professor, turned bad after X couldn’t convince him that controlling everything was a bad thing” the mutant   
explained, entering one of the classrooms filled with several other X-Men already in attendance to what looked like a meeting. 

Upon entry Clint was handed a manila folder, and when he opened it he noted it was a brief on Black Box: origin, powers, attributes and biggest grudges (listed known foes in the folder). 

“Deadpool’s the one most involved with a technologically enhanced villain?” Clint asked disbelievingly, flicking through the file and scanning for important information. 

“That was my direct line of thought too, but it turns out that Black Box has had problems with Wade for a long time” Gambit answered, spanning his arms out slightly, before clasping his hands in front of him. 

Clint nodded in understanding, continuing to flip through “We can’t kill him?” he asked vaguely, and upon seeing the shocked looks he was given, elaborated with “That is if he is involved, or if he’s the mastermind” 

Wolverine made a noise that sounded like a chuckle and smirked “The Professor forbids it; sometimes I agree when Deadpool complains that X is too forgiving” 

“Me too” Clint agreed with a chuckle, before his grin faded and he caught the gist of the conversation “Deadpool’s the ‘back up’ you’re going to send with me isn’t he?” 

Gambit sent him an almost apologetic look and nodded in form of an answer, to which Clint shook his own head and sighed. 

“I know you all don’t talk much with SHIELD” he began “But surely you’ve seen me work with Wade? We can’t go anywhere without fighting amongst each other or blowing something up… I get that he’s the best chance I’ve got at finding weaknesses but… look I’m going to be honest: he has too many enemies, which makes me nervous”

“I know” Wolverine answered simply “I’ve seen both your tendencies to hit the trigger when you’re pressured, but you’ve said it all: he will be an asset” 

“Yeah” Clint conceded “Just… promise me this isn’t a form of glorified babysitting”

Clint made a mental note that this was the first time he’d ever seen Wolverine properly laugh, and nodded curtly when the mutant assured “It’s not”

///

“It’s destiny you know” Deadpool remarked loudly from beside Clint, knocking shoulders with the archer roughly “You and me: saving the world”

“What happened to your infatuation with Spiderman?” Clint quipped easily, surprised at how quickly he came up with a retort “Suddenly you want to spend every waking moment with me and not him, what’s up with that?” It was an attempt at conversation, because if he heard another comment about ‘destiny’ he would shoot himself with a gun. 

“Oh, me and Spidey are still good” Deadpool assured “I just think that you might be a better role model, you know? We’re both poor, we kill people, and we’re misunderstood: perfect pair of aces!”

“Aces don’t have pairs” Clint noted softly, grinning when the mercenary scoffed at him “And I’m not misunderstood” 

“You’re wro-ong” Deadpool replied in a sing-song tone, his gaze moving from the crowd in the airport to Clint quickly “Hey, how do we get our weapons through anyway?”

This time it was Clint’s turn to scoff, and he retrieved a SHIELD badge (courtesy of his own contacts within the agency) from his pocket, flashing it in the mercenary’s direction with a smug grin “All access – level seven clearance for offensive equipment to all countries - including all firearms and combat weaponry” he rattled off on habit, grinning at Deadpool’s low whistle in response.

“Can I get one?” the mercenary asked, sticking by his side in favour of what Clint thought might have been wandering off only to get caught with dozens of illegal weapons. 

He shook his head, and as they walked by the metal detectors he flashed the badge, receiving a nod form the guard and a soft call of ‘enjoy your flight agent’.

“Must be nice being appreciated like that” Deadpool noted quietly, saluting to the guard “having everyone know that you mean business and such”

“You’re joking right? Everyone hates SHIELD, no one knows who Hawkeye is, and HYDRA agents think I’m a practical joke played by SHIELD until I actually knock together a few heads… being acknowledged and being respected are two completely different things Wade” Clint replied incredulously

“Yeah I know” Deadpool replied, looking over at Clint for a brief moment before watching where he was going “Most people do know who you are though, and the Avengers know you… but the joke thing? I get that, I gotta deal with the same stuff when I get contracts”

“You embrace it, don’t you?” Clint asked softly as they finally stepped on their plane, showing their tickets and shuffling between the aisles to find their seats: third from an emergency exit on the right side of the plane “Being taken as a bad joke?” 

“Yeah” Wade answered with a grin as he removed his mask and sat beside the window “It makes everything kind of fun, you know?”

Clint chuckled, leaning back in his seat and sighing, closing his eyes “If you can prove that the job gets done well while being a complete idiot to me, then I’ll buy you a taco truck”

///

“So, I expect the taco truck delivered to my pad in San Francisco by December, no later and no earlier, got that Robin Hood?” Deadpool called from across Black Box’s base of operations, where he was rummaging through crates and boxes “Hey, he had my sais all along! I knew I hadn’t lost them in Cambodia!”

“I’m glad you’re getting so much out of this” Clint replied sarcastically, looking through Black Box’s data recordings slowly, eyes beginning to sting from the strain, muscles singing out their protests to the amount Clint was putting them through, considering two weeks ago some of the areas had been open wounds and others had been fractured bones he thought he was doing quite well keeping up with the demands of his career. “Because so far there is nothing…” he trailed off when his eyes caught evidence of information, money, details, all being transferred to Black Box by an anonymous sender. 

“Holy shit Hawkeye” Deadpool murmured from where he was, now beside him hovering over his left shoulder “They wanted your attention – bad”

“Yeah” Clint murmured, looking through the elaborate details of a plan to keep him as far out of New York as possible, sending him on wild goose chases and highly covert missions that continued to go on and on “What is this guy planning for the Avengers though? If he’s got someone inside, then what’s the next step?” he said it more to himself, but knew that Deadpool was most likely listening to him and thinking of an answer to his question. 

“You know what I’d do” Deadpool answered, pacing the floor slowly, hands moving as he talked “I’m the guy in charge, right? So I’ve got money, and power and people who’ll do stuff for me”

“Okay” Clint answered, turning away from the recordings and watching Deadpool quietly, folding his arms and leaning back slightly. 

“So! So, the bad guy – you – is being run around and I’ve got a guy on the inside so what I’d do is…” Deadpool paused and looked straight at Clint, gaze serious “I’d kill them all and then replace them with my own guys” 

They were both silent for a long time, the atmosphere tense and ready to snap at the slightest touch, and it stretched to a point where it was uncomfortable, and Clint finally spoke.

“We should get to New York” he said gravely. 

“We?” Deadpool asked disbelievingly, catching up to Clint as he rushed out of the base and into the sunlight. 

Clint nodded with a slight grin “Can’t go and fight myself without some back up now can I?”


	4. Teamwork

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating a lot faster now due to the fact that I'm going away for Christmas, so I won't be able to post anything while gone - think of it as an early Christmas Present!

New York was, as always, busy to the point of being overrun, and he and Deadpool stuck out among the businessmen and families with their brightly coloured outfits and elaborate weaponry, striding through the crowds with purpose, weaving through the groups easily and keeping their eyes on the horizon. 

“Hey, normally I love going in without a plan” Deadpool said softly once they were within sight of the Avengers Tower, leaning close to him so that they needn’t yell “But what’s the plan?”

“Go in, hope they’ll believe me… try not to die” he answered slowly.

In truth, he had no plan: his friends were in danger, and that was enough for him to start becoming aggressive, all he wanted to do was get his doppelganger away from the Avengers so that they would be safe, away from harm and potential death. 

“Can you do it alone?” Deadpool asked suddenly, touching his arm as an indication to stop and look, which Clint did and caught sight of Electro of all villains, making his way toward them “Because I’ll need to distract Sparky here to even give you a chance of getting inside. 

He thought for a long moment, watching the villain advance towards them slowly, deliberately, as if issuing a challenge to the both of them, and decided that it was now or never: he didn’t have the leverage to take a second chance. 

“Don’t kill anyone” he ordered to Deadpool, nodding at the mercenary before darting into the crowd and then into the building, slipping into an elevator and hitting the button for the top floor. 

He slipped his bow off of his person, gripping it tightly with his left hand, trying to slow his breathing from the erratic pace it was starting to form as he took two arrows from his quiver and drew his bow half way before stopping and taking a breath. The doors slid open silently and he walked in, silent as the atmosphere he was cloaked in, bow pulled to full draw. The team was clearly out, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t snoop around and try to figure out who his doppelganger actually was. 

The tranquil state of the tower was interrupted by an arrow landing at Clint’s feet, beeping in a high pitched tone. He dove backwards, landing on his right shoulder and rolling to recover, firing blind and hearing a yell of pain to his right. He scrambled to his feet and drew another arrow, coming face to face with his double, dressed in his signature blue and purple armour, also with an arrow drawn. 

“Hi” Clint said softly, tightening the grip he had on his bow and trying to get a good look at the man his arrow was trained on. 

“You took your time” his doppelganger replied with a grin, one of the arrows Clint had fired dug into his left calf “I’ve been waiting for this since last we met”

That was when it clicked: he knew this voice too, had feared for his life as it had chided him on his skill before he was saved by Daredevil. 

“Bullseye” he stated simply “I should have known”

“Who else could have matched your accuracy?” the villain stated with an almost shrug, aim never wavering even with the movement “That’s a compliment by the way… smile Hawkeye: this is a chance to redeem yourself” 

A tense silence filled the air, both men equal distance with weapons drawn and ready, vigilant and stagnant, each daring the other to move. Clint felt as if he couldn’t breathe: there was no one to save him this time; he’d have to fight hard and fast, and make no room for mistakes. 

“Alright” Clint replied evenly, his heart was racing in his chest, beating so hard he was sure it was breaking free from his chest. 

“Alright” Bullseye echoed with a curt nod almost as if they’d agreed to meet for coffee, and then, without warning, fired. 

Clint dove, but not before firing his own arrow at the villain, knowing he’d missed but drawing and back pedalling almost as soon as his feet hit the ground, ducking to avoid another arrow, letting two of his own fly, turning on the ball of his feet to try and locate Bullseye, but as soon as he did a smoke screen was blinding him, and immediately, he dropped his bow, forgoing the weapon and sprinting forward, making contact with Bullseye and throwing him to the ground roughly, not pausing to catch a breath as he stood back up, kicking the bow from the villain and dodging the kick to his legs smoothly. 

“Feeling a little cocky Bullseye?” he quipped breathily, body reminding him that he was recovering dammit. 

He cursed himself for speaking when he was thrown to the ground, and he found himself wishing for his bow, which was way out of arms reach. Before Bullseye could pin him, he found the arrow in the villain’s calf and dug it further into the muscle, causing the villain to react by jerking back, giving Clint the leverage to push him off, shakily standing while his muscles screamed in protest. 

He’d barely found his feet when a sharp pain sparked in his left shoulder, the cause being an arrow in Bullseye’s hand, then he was thrown to his knees and lost his breath when a sharp kick made contact with his ribs. Clint gasped and coughed harshly, rolling to his back to try and get air to his lungs, screaming in pain when another sharp kick connected with his still healing right side. 

“Did you actually think you’d won?” Bullseye replied, crouching down next to Clint’s head as he tried to stand once more, halted by a hand to his throat. The villain regarded him for the longest of time, watching him with a cold and calculating gaze. “I’m going to kill your team; one by one, until there’s no one left… maybe I’ll keep you alive to watch” here he grinned maniacally, adding pressure to his grip on Clint’s throat.

His vision was slowly blacking out, spots of blindness hitting him along with a tightness in his lungs that was foreign and frightening to him; he tried to gasp for air but only succeeded in making a chocked whine leave his mouth. He scratched at the villain’s hands and wrists weakly, even kicking out his legs wildly in hope of making contact; he needed to live, he had to live. 

Then, abruptly, the chocking stopped and Bullseye was thrown roughly across the room, body going limp from the impact; clearly knocked out from the force. 

Clint let a huge gasp of air enter his lungs and coughed desperately, pushing himself up and yelling when he was almost pushed back down by the force of the embrace he was pulled into. He yelped weakly in pain, still coughing and gasping, body shaking in minute tremors while he felt as though he’d just passed out; weak and fragile and confused. When his hands found his saviour he recognised metal, and he then pulled himself close to Tony, pressing himself to the genius tightly. 

“I thought you were dead” Tony said softly, visor raised so that his voice had no metallic twang to it “I thought they’d have killed you by now, you scared me so much” Clint’s vision spun slightly when he was pushed back so that Tony could catch his gaze, deep blue eyes glinting with unshed tears “Don’t ever do that again” 

And then, Clint’s vision was spinning for an entirely different reason: Tony was kissing him. It was nothing like the other times, this was hard, passionate and a little frightening to him, as it was so sudden and unexpected. But he found that he was kissing back with as much desperation, as if they were star-crossed lovers destined to never see one another again. 

They both broke away after the longest of times, and Clint practically threw himself at the genius, wrapping his arms around the other man tightly, hands gripping to the armour still protecting him. 

“I won’t” he uttered softly, resting his head on a metal shoulder “I promise”


	5. Home

Clint could hardly believe his luck now that he had fully recovered from his near death experience, and had had proper medical treatment once more, being chided for roughly two hours by Tony as the genius had patched him up, the older man resorting to ranting beneath his breath about things that made sense and others that didn’t. 

The Avengers had apologised when they’d found out, but Clint hadn’t seen the point and had waved them off, assuring Natasha that he was more than fine when she cornered him in a hallway. Once she was satisfied with his health, Natasha had told him in a serious tone that she and Steve had started dating, and that Clint should keep his ‘nosy boyfriend’ (not his words) under control or he wouldn’t have one very soon. He’d laughed and hugged her, telling her he’d missed her and that he loved her; Natasha had been shocked, but had nodded against him, returning the embrace and calling him an idiot. 

Now it had been roughly a week since the incident with Bullseye, and he and Tony had taken it upon themselves to leave the tower and instead live in his mansion in New York, when asked about it, his boyfriend (he was using that now) had laughed and said “I own a mansion in pretty much every city, don’t sound so surprised Clint”

It was a tense situation Clint had found himself in: while he had stopped a takeover of the Avengers, he hadn’t found the money behind everything – there were too many leads and not enough time to follow them up, and even if he had that time, what if the leads were all dead ends anyway?

“Is it possible, just a little possible, that you’re missing the trees for the forest? That you’re setting yourself a deadline that doesn’t need setting?”   
Clint looked up from the scattering of documents in front of him and glanced at Tony with a soft smile, following the genius with his eyes as his boyfriend joined him on the floor, placing a mug of coffee near him with a smile of his own. 

“No, I’ve thought of that” Clint answered, scratching his temple and leafing through the documents for the fifth time today “The deadline marks when the target may lose interest or may not even be arrestible”

“That’s not a word” Tony replied gently, his own gaze set on the papers as well “I also kind of want you to give up on this: if the guy’s got money he’s got flunkies: and that means you could get hurt” the genius reasoned, touching Clint’s arm gently to get his attention, meeting his gaze with a concerned look. 

Clint made a noise in the back of his throat and shrugged “I always end up getting hurt” he yelped in protest when the genius responded by punching him. 

“Don’t say that!” Tony exclaimed, shock reading all over his face “That’s awful”

They both fell silent for a long amount of time, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was only the absence of anything to say, and that was something that occurred between them a lot: because they didn’t need to talk. 

“Sorry” Clint began “Did you say flunkies?” he looked up from the papers to catch Tony’s gaze, an eyebrow raised in question. 

The genius looked up from the documents he’d pulled into his lap a minute ago and chuckled “I did didn’t I?”

They both laughed for a moment, Tony sighing and drumming his fingers against paper before speaking “I missed you… you scared the crap out of me” 

Clint ducked his head for a moment, running a hand though his hair slowly “I think I was more or less scared for you than I was for myself… I wish I had of tried to contact one of you”

“No, I’m glad you didn’t” the genius responded “It was hard enough pretending everything was fine, and that Bullseye was you, for those few weeks: knowing you were out there would have made it much harder to stay idle”

“I can’t imagine you idle” Clint mused playfully, laughing when Tony made a half-hearted swipe at his head and shuffling closer to his boyfriend “Seriously – I can’t – it’d be so weird” 

Tony shushed him with a handsome smile that lit up his still young features, eyes sparkling with adoration “Focus Barton – do you want to catch this guy or what?”

“What if it’s Kingpin?” Clint asked softly, more to himself than Tony “Could he be involved? What’s he got against the Avengers? No, nothing…”

“You know, you could ask Daredevil about all of this… he can’t read but he knows a hell of a lot more than the both of us” Tony said, equally as softly, but with a grin on his face “You’re worse than me feathers”

“Why?” Clint asked vaguely “What happened to archers?”

The genius chuckled “You know how I am; one thing gets boring I choose another… I figured you were getting sick of archers: and you’re better than all of them anyway”

“I’m taking that as a compliment” Clint declared with a smile, kissing Tony softly: the barest touch of skin to skin, before pulling away “But I’m not sure about feathers”

“I’ll think of something… meanwhile; you need to kick ass so I can stop worrying and start romancing” the genius replied with a chuckle. 

Clint nodded and stood reluctantly: this would get more complicated the longer he left it to fester and he knew it; but when he was honest with himself: he wanted to ignore it too.

As he was leaving, Tony called out to him and he stopped at the door.

“I know it’s really, really too soon to say this” the genius began, showing sign of nervousness and smiling shakily “But I love you: so be careful okay?”

It shocked him for the briefest of moments, but really, he already knew the answer. Yes, it was too soon, but at the same time, it wasn’t. “I love you too… I’ll be careful” he assured, smiling in a smug way “I’m Hawkeye” 

“Clint you’re not funny” Tony said with a laugh and a shake of his head “But I’ll hold you to that”

///

Daredevil was a hard man to find if you didn’t know where to look, but Clint, who had run into him on more than one account, knew exactly where the man without fear lurked and how to get his attention. 

“I don’t like talking to Deadpool on a good day Hawkeye, was telling him to ‘go nuts’ in Hell’s Kitchen really necessary?” 

It had hit evening a long time ago, and rain was spitting down at the pair on one of the skyscrapers of New York. Clint admitted now that his method had been childish, telling Deadpool to get Daredevil’s attention had been akin to a bad prank on Daredevil; but did he regret it? No. 

“Well, I thought that maybe you deserved it” He said with good humour, the smirk fading at the disappointed look the other hero sent him “Okay maybe I took it a little too far but would you really turn up for just me?” 

Daredevil was silent for a long moment, before he chuckled and stood next to Clint on the edge of the building “Good point… I take it this isn’t a social calling?”

Clint shook his head, eyes tracking the cars beneath them so that he didn’t need to concentrate as hard on looking though the rain “No, this is about Bullseye”

“So you did get rid of him? Good, I was worried I’d need to do it for you” the other hero replied with a smirk “Did you do it alone?”

“Sort of, Stark knocked him out before he killed me” Clint answered, a little embarrassed at his failure, and the fact that Daredevil had guessed at it. 

“I’m sure that, if your ego would turn down enough for you to fight fluidly. You would have had him” Daredevil assured, placing a reassuring hand on Clint’s shoulder “So, no more talking raccoons?”

He barked a laugh and shook his head “No, no more talking animals… how did you know it wasn’t me?” he asked, curious. 

The way that Daredevil saw the world had always both confused and fascinated him: the way a man could analyse without any sight, and how quickly he caught on to things, always had Clint bewildered to the point he had thought that Daredevil really wasn’t blind. 

“His accent was two tones off and he didn’t tread as lightly as you” the other hero answered as if it were the most simple and easy answer in the world. 

“Thank you” Clint uttered “For the tread thing… not the other one”

Daredevil chuckled “You’re welcome… why are you here?”

He had, admittedly, been dodging the subject – nervous that the other hero would force him to give up now and refuse to tell him anything. But he also knew that without help he wouldn’t solve anything “Who would Bullseye be working for? Who do you think is behind this?”

Daredevil was silent once more, and Clint could swear he could hear the other hero thinking as they stood atop the building, New York carrying on beneath them loudly. 

“He stopped working for Kingpin a while back” Daredevil answered “I couldn’t find a suitable reason why, but I let it go… until he turned up with the Avengers under your guise… so I dug a little and found that Black Box had been the mid-point between Bullseye and his employer”

Clint nodded “I found out that too – Deadpool was strangely helpful… do you have any idea who our employer may be?”

“No” Daredevil replied evenly “But we may be able to find out”

“Look, I’ve been searching for weeks now, I’ve even lost sleep over this… if I investigate anymore I think I may actually explode” Clint answered impatiently, frustrated that he had gained no new information. 

“We don’t need to investigate” Daredevil replied, voice firm and allowing no argument “Think for a moment” 

Clint scowled at the other hero, but assented. Someone with a grudge against the Avengers with a lot of money… not Kingpin, not Stark… obviously; if the grudge was against him there would have been a personal element to all of this beyond the threat of his friends dying… what if, just possibly, the set-up had been to get to someone else on the Avengers? 

“They were out to get Stark” he said finally, the realisation hitting him hard like someone had dropped a heavy weight across his shoulders “Removing me, making him watch while his team was infiltrated, being able to do nothing… thinking I was dead… it was never about me”

“You don’t think?” Daredevil asked, turning to him for the first time in their conversation “How did you get to that?”

“There was nothing against me – no element of shock or awe… but the way Stark reacted… it was personal for him; not the other way around… I was a pawn” Clint replied softly, shock slowly fading; rage following immediately “I’m going to kill him”

Daredevil sighed loudly beside him “And you know who they are because?”

Clint felt a little smug then: knowing more than Daredevil, almost as smug as he’d felt when he’d bested Taskmaster for the first time. Both Daredevil, and before his defeat, Taskmaster, were these all-knowing, powerful people that Clint had seen as superior, and now that he stood beside, and above them, he felt a certain amount of power that was allocated to himself – which felt pretty good if he was honest with himself. 

“Like you said – think for a moment” 

Daredevil was silent, then he gained a look of shock (if it were possible) “Osborn”

“Only other billionaire in New York that isn’t in jail with a grudge against Stark” Clint finalised with a grin, a sense of pride swelling in his chest when the other hero nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Sometimes Hawkeye, only sometimes mind you, I wish I was as capable as you” Daredevil admitted softly. 

“And the other times?” Clint replied curiously 

“I remind myself that no one could ever be you – regardless of how much they think they could” Daredevil answered before leaping off the building without any hint of hesitation. 

“I’m taking that as a compliment!” Clint yelled, hoping the man without fear would hear him. 

But, he reasoned, Daredevil probably knew that he would have said that anyway


	6. Vengeance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the huge break - everything caught up on me!

Hawkeye was a man who didn’t kill without reason, and he knew that killing Osborn would be a bad idea, that he would regret later… but that didn’t mean that he’d give up any of the rage he was currently feeling. He hadn’t told the Avengers what he was up to, planning on finishing what he had adopted as his mission. He’d called into SHIELD and picked up what little ammunition he had left there, as he had been running low on arrows since helping out the X-Men in Kansas, knowing that he was stepping into a lion’s den – a lion with cash to blow and villains who needed it. 

If he got out of this unscathed it would be a miracle. 

This ‘mission’ of his had given him a lot to reflect on, both within himself and with how he did things: he now knew that rushing into something – however much it seemed like the only option – was not a good idea in any circumstance. He also knew that team work, while at times a hindrance, made everything so much easier to get done… he’d learnt that even the people who seemed the least selfless could prove themselves otherwise once given a chance, and that sometimes having a person to watch your back was a good thing. He knew that if he survived this, he was taking a year off and spending it with Tony, and that he was visiting Barney this Christmas regardless of his brother’s home being the Vault.

He stood in front of the Oscorp building, bow gripped in his right hand, a rock in the middle of a flowing river of civilians. He knew that he had one shot at this, that if he wanted to be done with this then he’d have to get it right… He ignored the irony of those words being the prior to his defeat at Bullseye’s hand and stepped off of the street and into the building, not sparing the workers inside a glance as he made for the elevator and stood stock still as it climbed steadily. He laughed aloud at the simplicity of his entrance, but clipped the humour immediately. 

He had a plan, and the only people aware of it were SHIELD, who had agreed whole heartedly to it and had sent him with the closest to Fury’s blessing he’d ever get.   
It was strangely surreal, he’d been through so much in just over two years, discovered so much about himself and the people around him, he’d discovered where his loyalties really did lie, had been pushed down and pulled around so much and yet here he was: alive.

It felt good. 

He reached the top floor and as he stepped from the elevator, he slipped his bow back across his chest, having come to a decision about his approach to the end. 

“So you finally figured it out”

Osborn was standing beside his desk, one hand resting on the desk, the other in his pocket as he examined his desk in a bored way before glancing at him with a smug grin. 

Clint nodded stiffly and stepped forward, stopping only a metre away from the billionaire “It took a while” he admitted “But I’m not here for that” he continued after noting the almost shock on Osborn’s face and made to explain “You see, at first I was mad – really mad because you’d messed with one of the only good things in my life, which made me want to put an arrow into your forehead” he paused, taking a long look around the room to make sure he wasn’t rambling, and that what he was saying made sense “But then, I thought about it and I realised… you did something illegal” he nodded towards the billionaire with a smug grin of his own “Which means I could call the cops, and you’d lose money”

He almost cheered at his good timing, because the elevator doors clicked open once more and five policemen filed into the room, one stating that Osborn was under arrest for the attempted murder of an American citizen, and to add to that, an Avenger. Clint hadn’t told them much beyond his near death experience, but that was all they had needed in the end. 

“I didn’t expect this” Osborn admitted to him as they were driven to the precinct in the back of a truck, the billionaire’s hands cuffed and in front of him. 

Clint nodded “I didn’t either” he answered “But, I’ve been manipulated to kill before Norman… I don’t want to do that again” he was silent for a moment, then added “I’ve got you a good lawyer – better than your own – he’ll make sure you’re not away for too long: your son needs you more than prison does”

Osborn looked as if he was about to say something, but instead he remained quiet, but Clint felt as though it would have been ‘You aren’t what I thought you’d be’

“The past two years: I was tortured, beaten, brought to near death and I fell out of, then into, love… it all changed me – I don’t kill just because someone pisses me off… now I just get even” 

They stepped out of the truck and Clint was met halfway by Matthew Murdock, who smirked at him knowingly. 

“Not killing people suits you Clint – you make a better hero than assassin” Murdock said softly “Stick to it – maybe I’ll let you take on Hell’s Kitchen soon” 

“Hilarious” Clint retorted to the lawyer’s retreating back, before turning around himself and running into Tony, who responded by punching him in the arm. 

“Why don’t you ever tell me you’re doing something stupid?!” his boyfriend said above the sound of reporters and cameras everywhere. 

“Because then you’d stop me and we’d never get anywhere” he answered simply “I’m not dead” he stated, as if it were a greeting instead of a weighted comment. 

“I’m glad” The genius admitted with a grin “You’ve changed” he then said with a fond smile. 

Clint chuckled and grinned as well “Good, isn’t it?”

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know this isn't a regular ending for someone like Hawkeye, but I really wanted to show that he's changed from the guy who would whack a problem because he could: and even though it may not be your kind of ending, it was the kind of ending that I could sit back and say 'I'm happy with this' so, if you found it disatisfying I'm sorry.
> 
> On a different note, that's the end of this series, thanks for sticking with me this far and for all of the support and feedback you've given: its really helped me to keep going with this story, and encouraged me to maintain its quality. I'm admittedly sad that my adventure with Clint is over but hey, all good things right?
> 
> Thanks again for everything.


	7. Bonus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a huge thank you chapter to all of the people who have read, commented, left kudos, bookmarked and subscribed to this series! Your support and help have been hugely appreciated and I want to let you know its really helped me out in keeping this going and bringing it to completion.
> 
> So, very simply, Thank You!!
> 
> Enjoy the reward!

“I don’t really think this is a good idea anymore”

Clint chuckled from his position next to his boyfriend and pressed a sure kiss to the other man’s cheek “I am – you’re learning”

“Well… yes that is a desirable outcome but… I’m not ready?”

He scoffed, adjusted the genius’s arms slightly and stepped back, taking in his stance “Sure you are: breathe”

As Tony did so Clint smiled fondly – it was nice to finally have a break from the trademark chaos of his life, to finally not have to sleep with one eye open – he really was in love and as frightening as it was, it made him incredibly happy. 

Fury had generously given him a break, and he was allowed to choose when and how it ended, he was spending it with genius billionaire Tony Stark and he was enjoying every minute of it. 

Today he’d been allowed to choose their outing and he had immediately answered with a shooting range and for the past hour he’d been lecturing his boyfriend on how to shoot and bow and arrow and they were both discovering how incredibly bad he was at teaching. 

It was embarrassing, but he wanted to try – he wanted to show someone what it was like, what it felt like, and he knew Tony would be the perfect candidate: the genius learnt things quicker than most and was the most trusted person in his life. 

“So, feathers, have I got the stance yet?”

He was pulled from his musing and immediately eyed off the position of his partner’s feet and arms before shaking his head “Your right elbow needs to lift a fraction”

“A fraction?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Can you give me an amount or, I don’t know, show me?”

Tony was beginning to revert into sarcasm and snark, but Clint knew it was simply out of stage fright, and he only smiled kindly in reply and stepped back into his boyfriend’s space, bending his knees to level his line of sight with Tony’s and adjusting the tilt of his elbow then circling around and straightening his posture with precision. 

“Question, feathers”

He made a small noise in the back of his throat as he took an arrow from his quiver and handed it to the genius “I’m still not jazzed about that nickname”

“I’m still not ‘jazzed’ about shooting a Palaeolithic Era weapon” Tony mimicked with a cock sure grin.

Clint sighed and shook his head with a fond smile “Ask”

“How hard is this going to be in practice?” 

He made a face, took a breath and shrugged “I have absolutely no idea – Draw”

“Easily done partner” Tony replied, putting heavy emphasis on the accent of the last word with a prideful smirk and doing as he was told. 

Clint made another noise in his throat and tilted his drawing arm “Make sure the fletching is aligned here, you’ll shoot wide if not”

“Fletching?”

“The thing at the end of the arrow” Clint answered, folding his arms and tilting backwards to stretch out his back “The feathers”

“Fletching” Tony said again, as though testing out the word “It sounds – bear with me here – it sounds like a 19th century compliment – ‘My sir Barton, you do look quite fletching today’” The comment from his partner, accompanied by the put on English accent, caused Clint to let out an undignified snort followed by a bark of laughter. 

He halted any further sounds by slamming his hand over his mouth and glared when the genius started laughing, doubling over and gasping for air “Did you just snort? Oh my god you’re such an adorable person” 

“I’m a highly skilled professional assassin” he replied, unamused, his eyes tracking Tony as he straightened out and took in a long breath of air.

“An adorable one”

“I’ll kill you”

“I’ll haunt you”

He chuckled and nodded, accepting defeat and waving his hand in dismissal “Draw”

This time, when Tony obeyed it was perfect, his stance and the positioning of his hands were spot on – exact and well balanced. 

“Very nice: you do listen” he praised, checking over his observations by circling his partner.

“Only to pretty blondes” Tony quipped easily, his expression reading smug but his gaze saying otherwise – stage fright.

“Shoot” he replied, folding his arms and watching the arrow fly, noting that it hit the second innermost circle, only fractions from the centre circle. 

“Holy shit!” Tony exclaimed, the bow long forgotten as he jumped into Clint’s ready arms – the genius was becoming predictable “I hit something without target assist! Did you see that?!”

Clint chuckled “Yeah I saw it – I taught you it”

He was prevented from saying much else when his boyfriend kissed him firmly and parted with a whoop of triumph “I am so incredibly, amazingly proud of myself! I hit the thing!”

“You hit the thing?” Clint repeated with a fond smile, the gesture growing to a grin when Tony nodded without words “I love you”

Tony’s excited mood sobered immediately and he smiled radiantly in reply “I love you too”

Sure, he had to return to SHIELD and continue saving the world, and he knew he’d have to do so soon. 

But for now, right now, on an obscure shooting range, with Tony Stark holding him close, he couldn’t help but think that everything was absolutely perfect.


End file.
